Gates of Life
by Charnia
Summary: An attempt at suicide by Gray Warden goes awry, and Zevran falls in with an unlikely group of adventurers led by an acerbic elven mage. Can Blair overcome his substantial faults and succeed in saving Ferelden? M/M, slash.
1. Change of Plans

**Chapter 1: Change of Plans**

Zevran leaned back on the wagon and surveyed the scene. Broken crates lay scattered about, and two dead oxen were laid out on the ground. Concealed traps blocked the paths up the sides of the gorge to where the archers laid in wait, and a beautiful woman was standing by to lure the unsuspecting adventurers to their doom.

He couldn't suppress a smile. The odds they would be caught by surprise? Nonexistent. Maddalena had a mouth as hard as flint, there was no way seasoned warriors would mistake her for a helpless damsel. Even if they did, her story of an attack upon their wagon would bring the Wardens to him with weapons drawn. But success was not the goal of this particular operation. This would have come as a surprise to Maddalena, but then he had chosen her as supporting mage in this operation chiefly because of her lack of mental acuity.

A scout sent to track the Wardens reported that they would be on the road to Redcliffe Village from the Mage's Tower three days ago, ample time to arrange the ambush site. Zevran had his men in place yesterday, and expected the Wardens at any time.

Indeed, Maddalena ran into sight from around the bend in the trail. Zevran felt a familiar jolt of excitement. Soon it would be over. Shortly behind her jogged the Wardens' party, alert, heads up, weapons in hand. There was a warrior with sword and shield, that would be the senior Gray Warden, and a Qunari warrior carrying a battleaxe. A woman in leather armor had an arrow nocked and her bow half-drawn, beside her was one of the Ferelden war hounds. The final three carried mage's staves–a young male elf, the other Gray Warden, a gray-haired woman, and a woman in strange garb. Zevran found himself wondering for a second how she kept that shirt on, but snapped back to the task at hand. Three mages, that was practically unheard of in a skirmish. His spy had reported only one, the Gray Warden. For a moment Zevran started running through possible strategies to remove one of the mages as rapidly as possible, then remembered once again that there was no need to worry. In this case, failure was success. If they had three mages, so much the better.

Maddalena reached his side and gave him a nod and a sly smile before turning to the party. Heart pounding, Zevran gave the signal and shouted "The Gray Wardens die here!" On cue, assassins on the ridgetop cut the ropes holding up a sawn-through oak, dropping it to block the group's retreat. As his assassins stepped out of their hiding places Maddalena began a spell that Zevran recognized as a glyph of paraysis. But the party had already sprung to the attack.

"Mage!" shouted the elf. The mabari shot past Zevran like a ballista's bolt. The senior Warden followed, heading for Maddalena, but Zevran and two of his men intercepted him. Zevran parried the Gray Warden's slash and slid his dagger in under his shield as the mercenary beside him distracted the Warden with a swing at his head. Zevran's dagger caught at the gap under the Warden's breastplate, but he twisted and the blade slid harmlessly over the steel. Undeterred, he stepped back as the Warden recovered his guard.

The man to his right had been sidling around the Warden looking for an opening, and did not see the Qunari behind him. The giant swung his battleaxe and nearly cleaved the man in two. He dropped with barely a sound, and the qunari jerked the battleaxe free and raised it for another swing, turning towards one of the other men attacking him.

The other mercenary facing the Warden pressed his luck too far with a sword thrust at the Warden's abdomen. The Warden parried and counterattacked with a slash that severed his carotid artery and jugular vein. The mercenary's blood sprayed Zevran's face as he slumped to the ground. Zevran grinned–the counterattack had left the Warden vulnerable. He swung with his sword at the man's waist, and when he dropped his shield to block the attack lashed out at his throat with the dagger in his off hand. His dagger cut the man's neck, but he jerked back far enough that the cut was only shallow.

Meanwhile the Wardens' oddly garbed mage had run up behind them as well, and with crisp efficiency of motion sent a cone of ice roaring past Zevran, presumably at Maddalena, if she still lived. Zevran did not see Maddalena's fate as the Warden, angered by the cut, bashed him with his shield and knocked him flat on his back. Zevran rolled to avoid a sword slash and sprang back to his feet in time to see the elf mage cast a glowing glyph upon a second glyph at the ridgetop to the north. There was a flash of light and a roar almost beyond sound and the archers were struck paralyzed.

Zevran looked back at the mage in time to meet his eyes, and recognized he was casting another spell with Zevran as the target–with no time for him to respond. The mage lowered his hand and suddenly the warmth drained from Zevran's body. He felt as if he'd fallen into icy water, and the cold bit into his bones like a wolf's fangs. He felt the weight of his sword drop from numbed fingers and saw the Gray Warden raise his shield, but couldn't move to avoid him. The Warden slammed his shield into the side of Zevran's head and he blacked out completely.

A jab to the ribs awakened him–aching all over, chilled to the bone, but alive. He looked up to see the elven mage with his staff lifted, ready to jab him again. "I was expecting to wake up dead–or not at all," he said aloud. The elf raised an eyebrow and Zevran realized his precarious position. He had expected to be killed, it was another thing to be captured. He scanned the faces of his captors. They all looked angry, but none of them looked like they were gleefully contemplating removing his fingers and toes. The senior Gray Warden looked the most angry of the bunch, which was understandable considering Zevran had cut him. The other Warden, the elf, was less angry, possibly leaning towards being merely _annoyed_ at the attempt on his life. True, his party had crushed the attackers like ants under their boots.

"So I am not dead, you must have something in mind for me. What is it?"

"I was planning on torturing you, personally," the mage replied with an edge to his voice.

Probably a bluff, Zevran told himself. Although Zevran well knew that youth and cruelty sometimes went hand in hand, he thought the young Wardens didn't look like the type to torture–at least not without reason. And Zevran did not intend to give them reason. "Torture is usually used to extract information. That is unnecessary, in spite of the potential for fun. I will tell you anything you want to know." Within a few minutes the party knew all there was to know about this particular assignment–the contract placed by Teyrn Loghain, the exact arrangement between the Teyrn and the Crows, and Zevran's precarious position now that he had failed in fulfilling the contract.

Zevran found himself thinking that maybe he should try to follow this path a little further. He had been seeking the escape of death. He could still arrange to meet death at any time. Yet how many times did one get a chance to escape the Crows and live? Was it even possible to talk himself out of this situation? How could he resist such a challenge?

Oddly, it seemed that the elven mage was the leader of the group, since he had taken charge of questioning him. He addressed the mage directly, "Now if you are done with your questions I have a proposition for you. Let me live, and in exchange I will serve you."

The mage laughed in disbelief. "And why would I agree to that?"

"I have many skills. I can fight–today I was unlucky–use stealth, pick locks. I know the Crow's methods, and can warn you if I see another attack coming. I am also good at entertainment. I know jokes, twelve massage techniques, and six card games. I even know a little poetry."

The elf looked incredulous. "And what's to keep you from trying to wrap up this contract later?"

"The Crows have a reputation to uphold, and are not forgiving of failure. The punishment for failure is death, and there are no pardons. Killing you now would not alter their plans for me, and would remove the only impediment in their way."

The other Gray Warden spoke up, rubbing the newly healed scar on his neck. "You aren't seriously considering taking the assassin with us, are you?"

"Yes. You'd rather we just kill him? You've got your sword out, would you like to kill him yourself?" the elf asked irritably.

"Well, no. But we could just leave him. Why take him?"

"Because I said so," said the elf with a chilly tone.

"Fine! Excuse me, I'm just a peon in your command structure!" The other Warden turned and stalked away, swinging his sword more than was perhaps safe.

"I agree with Alistair, for once," said the oddly-dressed female mage. "If you bring him, you'd better be careful of your food."

"I already am," he answered curtly. There must have been more to this statement than was initial apparent, because she rolled her eyes and walked away, bending to search a nearby assassin's corpse.

Zevran smiled inwardly in surprise and amusement. Apparently the elf was in charge of the group, even able to force his will upon the group. Since the matter appeared settled, Zevran cautiously stood.

For the first time he had a chance to look the elf over. He had hazel eyes and his long, reddish-brown hair was pulled back in a braid. He wore a mage's robe marred by faded bloodstains, probably not his own. His only weapon was the mage's staff he carried, although Zevran supposed a mage needed no weapons. He did seem very young, and Zevran doubted he was much past 20. And all Ferelden's hopes were pinned on this youth and his fellow. Well, looks could be deceiving. He bowed slightly and said, "I hereby pledge my oath of loyalty to you. I am your man, without reservation. This I swear."

The elf cocked his head and gave him a skeptical look, but responded simply, "Don't forget your weapons."

Zevran bent slowly and picked up his sword and dagger. He was still chilled from the spell the mage had cast on him, and his numbed fingers were clumsy as he wiped the blades before sheathing the weapons.

The elf watched him with interest. "Your lips are blue. I've never used magic on someone and not then killed them. What's it feel like? "

Zevran gave him a disbelieving look and said, "Very cold."

The elf shrugged at his terse answer and said sarcastically, "Maybe it will keep the bruising down."

Zevran reached up and felt the lump over his temple where the Warden's shield had struck him. He checked his fingers–no blood, but he'd have quite a headache for a day or so. He supposed it was too much to expect that one of the mages would heal him.

The other Gray Warden approached them again and said snidely, "I hope my armor didn't chip your blades."

"Fine Antivan steel, but thank you for your concern," Zevran answered.

"Alistair, give him a chance. I think Zevran will be a fine addition to our party," the archer said with an Orlesian accent.

Zevran took a closer look at the woman. She was quite attractive, with fiery hair and full lips. "Ah, and may I count you among my new companions? I did not know that such visions of beauty were to be found among adventurers!"

"Or maybe not," the woman muttered, then turned to retrieve her arrows from the corpses of Zevran's dead companions. Ever practical, Zevran gathered his gear and joined her in searching the bodies of the fallen.

He reached Maddalena's body and saw now how she had died. It was impossible to tell if she'd bled to death or had her neck broken. The mabari had knocked her down and mangled her throat. Zevran glanced towards the huge dog, which was gleefully rolling against a ripening ox carcass. Blood covered the dog's face and chest. Zevran glanced back down at Maddalena's staring eyes and felt a twinge of guilt, which he quickly suppressed. She had not been destined for a long tenure with the Crows.

Having stripped the bodies of useful equipment, the party gathered by the broken cart. Zevran handed the elven Warden several lyrium potions he had retrieved from Maddalena's pouch. "You may find these useful."

The Warden gave him an unreadable look and said, "Thank you." He slipped the potions into a pocket in his pack. "So, introductions. I am Blair. This is Alistair, Leliana, Sten, Wynne, Morrigan, and Greagoir." He almost scratched the mabari's ears when it ran up to him, but wrinkled his nose and pulled his hand back at the smell of carrion.

"Really, Wynne, I don't know why you bother bathing him," Blair said to the elderly mage.

Zevran surveyed the group. Alistair still looked grumpy at Blair's curt dismissal of his very reasonable concerns about letting Zevran join the group. Wynne looked gravely disapproving, although it wasn't clear if she disapproved of the mabari rolling in carrion or Blair sparing Zevran's life. It was anyone's guess what the Qunari was thinking. Leliana was the sole friendly face, flashing him a smile before turning away.

The party headed up the path, leaving the ambush site and Zevran's life as a Crow behind them.

Zevran spent the next couple days trying to figure out the group dynamics, and what his role was in the party. Blair appeared to be the leader, but that seemed to be more because no one else wanted the job than because he wanted to lead. It was not even clear how much the group liked the young mage. Morrigan seemed to dislike him, but then she seemed to dislike everyone in the group. There was little regard between the two Gray Wardens as well. Blair thought the younger Warden hopelessly callow, which amused Zevran since Blair didn't seem to realize he was equally green. Blair appeared to get along better with Leliana and Wynne. They, on the other hand, seemed to prefer Alistair's company. If the two Wardens had been Crow masters, the question of group leadership would have been settled emphatically as one or the other would have ended up dead in his bedroll by now.

Zevran began to think that perhaps he should extricate himself from this situation. It seemed likely the darkspawn would wipe out the fragmented party sooner or later, and he did not care to go with it. But, unfortunately, there was the small matter of his vow, and that generally did mean something. He decided to stick with the decision for now. He wanted to see how the party did in combat. They must manage to work together better under fire than they did without a common enemy, since they had managed to defeat his ambush with no casualties. Since Zevran had spent most of that combat unconscious he could not say how they had managed it.

Perhaps partially because of the instability of the group structure, Zevran's role also was very unclear. He was not treated as an equal member of the party, but not as a servant, and not entirely as a prisoner. He carried his weapons, but was not trusted to stand watch at night, and Blair had him sharing a tent with Sten. This was partly because their weren't enough tents to go around, but Zevran thought also so that Sten could keep an eye on him. Zevran found Sten unnerving anyway–it was impossible to tell what the huge Qunari was thinking–and his Crow training left him unable to sleep soundly with someone else nearby. He got only brief snatches of sleep. After the second restless night Blair asked him about it. "You're practically dead on your feet. What's the matter?"

"I haven't been sleeping well."

"That much was evident. Why is that?"

"I didn't survive over two decades as a Crow without learning to be extremely cautious. I find it hard to sleep with someone else nearby."

The mage frowned. "I see." He didn't say anything else, but walked away to join Sten.

That evening in camp Blair called him aside. "We're shuffling things around. I'm sharing a tent with Sten, you can have my old tent. But don't go trying to sneak off, because Greagoir will be watching you." He put his hand on the mabari's head, and it managed to wag its tail at Blair while simultaneously growling at Zevran.

"Thank you," Zevran said, surprised. "But threats are unnecessary. I do plan to stand by my vow." He decided to try to shake the mage up a bit. "Alternatively, you could share a tent with me, so as to keep a closer eye upon me."

"And once again you would be unable to sleep."

"There are other things we might do," he said with a suggestive smile.

Blair gave him a scathing look. "That's a ridiculous suggestion. Not only would you be tired, but I would be as well. That's worse than the current situation." He shoved the tent bag into Zevran's hands and joined Alistair by the fire.

As Zevran pitched the tent, he tried to figure out just what Blair's reaction meant. He'd expected anger, embarrassment, or maybe casual flirtation, but not to have the pass treated as if it were a serious suggestion. The mage was either being incredibly literal-minded, insinuating that he didn't consider the suggestion that outlandish, or attempting to befuddle him in retaliation. He suspected it was the last. In any case, it was more interesting than the predictable responses.

Zevran's first opportunity to fight with the party arrived a few days later in the village of Redcliffe. They learned that the village was suffering nightly attacks by hordes of undead. Zevran had learned that the party wanted to reach Arl Eamon, a political opponent of Teyrn Loghain, and said to have be ill with some mysterious ailment that did not respond to doctoring. The party had debated just leaving the doomed village, but Alistair had urged they stay to protect the village and try to get into the castle to find the Arl. Zevran thought it was unlikely he was still alive, but Blair was willing to try. "We've killed how many darkspawn?" he asked. "What's a few undead on top of that?" Morrigan and Sten especially seemed displeased with the decision, yet here they were.

The party awaited nightfall near the windmill at the top of the hill, near the gates to the castle. As the sun set, Morrigan and Sten stood overlooking the village, talking in low voices. The two did not appear to get along well normally, but were united in their opposition to aiding the village. Nearby Wynne was sorting through their potions, while Alistair talked with Ser Perth. The others were more idle. Leliana was throwing a stick, playing fetch with Greagoir. Blair was sitting cross-legged on the ground, plucking grass blades to see if he could make a whistle. Zevran walked over to sit near him. Since his arrival the party had relaxed considerably around him, although Zevran noticed that Sten had been watching him closely all day.

"Alistair can do this, but I can't seem to get the trick," Blair said, cupping a blade of grass in his hands. He tried to blow on it, but couldn't get it to make a sound. He dropped the blade and selected another one. Zevran was initially amused at his difficulty, but reflected that if he was locked in the Tower all his life this might be his first opportunity to do this simple thing. In the past couple days he'd spent much of his time traveling talking with the mage, and found him to be a strange mix of knowledge and inexperience, cynicism and childlike wonder.

Not wanting to bring up the Tower, Zevran moved to the question on his mind. "Sten has been following me. Not that I don't I like attention, but it's enough to make me nervous. I wonder about his intentions," he said.

Blair raised an eyebrow. "No need to fear for your virtue. I told him I didn't want you opting out of the battle tonight."

"I love battles. But I prefer a fight where my blades can draw blood, even though it does get on my clothes. . ." he trailed off. "Considering the scarcity of washerwomen in this accursed village, perhaps it is a good thing the enemy are already dead."

"You do look on the bright side," Blair said in amusement.

The mage had a charming smile, he noticed. It was a wonder he didn't use it more often. "I am eternally optimistic. Which is why I am expectant of getting you into bed any day now. I assure you I am a most attentive lover."

Blair laughed. "In that case you will be amenable when I tell you to go fuck yourself." Giving Blair a sidelong glance, Zevran sighed forlornly. "Ah, if only I could. If I were two of me, I would never leave my tent."

"Maker!" Blair exclaimed, throwing the grass blade to the ground. "Do you never stop?"

"Not until things reach their due conclusion," Zevran answered, grinning.

Looking up the hill, Blair stood and said, "Well, here's your conclusion. Time to get to work." Dark forms were beginning to cross the bridge leading from the castle to the village. As the undead approached the ruined gate, the party gathered around Blair, readying their weapons.

"All right, as we discussed, you all know what you are doing. We have plenty of help, so fall back if you get in a bad spot. Wynne and I will be healing. And Wynne and Morrigan, conserve mana. If you need to heal someone or take an undead out, do it, but if the other soldiers are getting the job done let them get about it.

"Oh, and don't blunder into the grease fire!" Blair finished as an archer launched a flaming arrow into the oil slick. It went up immediately in flames, sending up thick black smoke that blocked their view of the first approaching undead. And then they shambled through the flames, burning, and the battle began.

Zevran had been in a couple such battles before in his life, and those he had experienced in the streets of Antiva tended to be disorganized free-for-alls where often you weren't sure who was attacking you and from where. The Redcliffe battle by comparison had a beautiful simplicity: the enemy smelled like ripening corpses and attacked from arms' reach. There were casualties that night, mostly among the militia. The party had been waiting by the windmill to help the guards at the top of the hill, but were surprised by undead coming up from the lake. The Gray Wardens and their comrades had hurried down to aid them, but were not able to save everyone. However, none of the party was seriously injured, which made the whole experience a success in Blair's eyes.

Zevran managed to avoid anything more than a few bruises by refusing to engage the undead face-to-face, instead moving through the fray looking for opportunities to handicap the living corpses by severing a hamstring or breaking a knee. The undead were clumsy but hard to kill, and they found the best strategy was to cripple them, sever their limbs, or disembowel them and leave them tripping over their own entrails.

The battle did answer one question–the Gray Wardens' party was a force to be reckoned with. That much would be true of any party with three mages, but Leliana, Sten, and even Greagoir were also quite impressive. Zevran was beginning to suspect that Leliana had a more interesting past than she let on, since she was calm throughout the battle, even when placing an arrow in an undead's eye from mere feet away. Alistair had obviously been well-trained, but that on the practice field. He still needed more combat experience, but with their mission he was sure to get that soon.

Zevran ended up being mistaken about the undead being neater to kill than the living. With the living you had to deal mostly with blood. The undead, on the other hand, tended to ooze or sometimes gush unspeakable fluids. The morning following that battle the shores of the lake were packed with soldiers stripped naked and washing with harsh laundry soap–and not wading in too deep in case some undead remained submerged in the lake, hiding from full sunlight.

For most of the inhabitants of Redcliffe the battle was over, but the party still had to reach the Arl. By evening the day after the night battle they had fought their way through the castle to find out what had sent the undead upon the town. The Arl's son was an abomination.

Rather than killing the boy or wasting precious time returning to the Circle of Magi for backup, Blair chose to allow the blood mage Jowan to kill the Arlessa in order to send Blair into the Fade. From the stony look upon Alistair's face Zevran guessed that this decision was going to lead to more trouble. Zevran understood why it was necessary. The abomination could easily re-animate the dead that had survived being burned or hacked to pieces, and if that was unsuccessful it could turn its magical talents to destroying the village by other means. There was no guarantee Redcliffe Castle would still be inhabited by the living if they left before dealing with the abomination.

Zevran was impressed by the bravery of the boy's mother, who knelt praying while the blood mage began to cast his spell. Blair watched, jaw tense. None of them were prepared when the magic lifted the Arlessa into the air, and she screamed as the blood magic ripped her chest open. The magic hit Blair like a charging bronto and he fell to the floor as if dead. Leliana crossed to him, skirting the growing pool of blood, and put her fingers on his neck to feel for a pulse. "He's alive," she said.

Alistair and Sten took Jowan back to the dungeons. Leliana tried to cover the Arlessa with a tablecloth borrowed from a dining table nearby, but Bann Teagan stepped in and carried her body away. After that there was nothing to do but wait. Blair was unconscious in deepest sleep. Occasionally his brow would furrow or his hand twitched, but otherwise there was no sign that he was aware of anything. Finally, after over an hour, Blair opened his eyes.

"It is done," he said, sitting up. But instead of relief, Zevran saw a fleeting expression of . . . was it disgust? A moment later it was gone, and Blair somberly looked at the pool of bood remaining on the flagstones.

"Thank the Maker!" Leliana exclaimed. Zevran saw that Wynne was smiling. In spite of the fact that blood magic of a particularly brutal fashion had been necessary, they were glad that Connor was freed. Alistair, on the other hand, still looked angry. Zevran had already noticed he seemed very idealistic. He probably still thought going to the Tower was the right decision, and Zevran wondered what his reaction might have been if they had gone and come back too late to save anyone, including the Arl.

"I'll talk to Bann Teagan and then we need to leave. We need to track down that Urn." Blair still seemed disoriented from his trip to the Fade, but when Zevran offered to help him up gave him a scowl that made him take a step back. Zevran had been around the party long enough to know Blair was short-tempered, but that look was unexpected. Zevran watched him curiously as he went to find Bann Teagan, leaving the room without looking at his companions.

* * *

Followed by **The Broad Road, First Interlude: Cats Always Land on Their Feet**


	2. Ambition

Preceded by **The Broad Road, First Milestone: Transgression**

* * *

**Chapter 2: Ambition**

Zevran parried the genlock's slash with his dagger and stabbed it in the gut with his sword. It fell to the ground howling and Zevran turned away, ducking a swing from a hurlock's sword. They had been ambushed on a simple resupply trip, and things had gone very wrong very quickly. Zevran sidled towards the glowing glyph of warding that Blair had placed on the ground where Alistair had been until a moment ago when he'd gone charging after a genlock. Instead of following Alistair, most of the remaining darkspawn had turned to attack the rest of the party. Zevran had three hurlocks trying to surround him. He glanced back over his shoulder to see another pair heading towards Blair and Leliana.

They were on their own, he thought grimly, parrying another blow and driving back one hurlock with a slash of his sword. He was in the glyph of warding and could feel its warmth on his skin, but was quickly being forced out of the glyph by the three hurlocks. He parried another slash and counterattacked, landing a shallow stab to the hurlock's rib cage before he had to jump back to avoid another hurlock's swing. The injured hurlock snarled and lunged wildly. Zevran twisted aside and brought his dagger down in a vicious slash. The hurlock staggered back screaming, its arm cut to the bone.

The third hurlock jumped forward and brought its club down on Zevran's arm before he could pull it back. He heard a crack as the bones broke, and screamed as searing pain lanced up his arm. His dagger dropped from his hand. Backpedaling, he managed to get out of range of a sword stroke that would have disemboweled him. He stepped inside the hurlock's guard and stabbed it through the heart, jumping back as the hurlock with the injured arm took a cut at him.

Zevran parried another sword slash and dodged a swing from the other hurlock's club. Without his second weapon he was at a grave disadvantage. He risked a quick glance back. Leliana stood in a glyph of repulsion, drawing her bow. Blair was not in the glyph–he was running towards Zevran. Zevran snapped his eyes forward in time to parry another slash, his hand stinging from the impact. The other hurlock swung its club again, too close upon the other hurlock's attack for Zevran to raise his sword to block it. The club crashed into his chest, knocking him on his back. His sword flew from his hand. He started to roll and draw his other dagger, ignoring the white-hot shock of pain from his broken arm. But the hurlock was stepping forward, sword raised, and he wouldn't be fast enough.

Then a blast of ice caught the two hurlocks and they staggered back. Zevran started to struggle to his feet when blinding pain suddenly filled his arm. He could hear the grinding sound of the ends of the bones shifting against each other, and dropped back to his knees, struggling to stay conscious. When the pain started to fade he realized he was leaning his palm on the ground for support, and his arm was bearing his weight.

Blair hit the closest hurlock with a bolt of lightning and Zevran scrambled to his feet and finished it off with a stab to the chest. He swapped his dagger to his off hand and scooped up his sword. The other hurlock swung at him and he parried, then counterattacked, knocking the club from its hands. He followed up with two stabs to the chest with his off-hand before neatly driving his sword through the hurlock's heart.

He heard a hurlock roar behind him and turned just as it ran up behind Blair. The hurlock grabbed his braid and yanked backwards, jerking Blair off his feet and raising its sword. Blair started to cast a spell, but he couldn't cast in time to stop the hurlock's sword from falling. Zevran lunged for the hurlock, knocking its blade aside as it swung down at Blair's neck. The deflected blade struck Blair on the side of his head over his ear. The hurlock dropped Blair and turned on Zevran, swinging its sword two-handed at him. Zevran didn't try to parry the massive blow, but leaped back. The tip of the blade just barely caught him, slashing through his armor and drawing a line of searing pain across his abdomen.

Suddenly it froze in mid-step, caught in a paralysis spell, and its momentum carried it forward, crashing into the ground by Zevran's feet. He killed it with a stab in the back, then looked back towards Blair. He was standing, but a sheet of blood covered half his head and neck. With a look of grim concentration, he was beginning to cast another spell at the lone remaining hurlock. It was swinging its maul at Leliana. Zevran started towards the two as Leliana shot it in the throat, but the hurlock's swing carried through and the maul's head smashed into her ribcage and sent her flying. The spell, a cone of cold, struck the hurlock a moment later. Reaching the stunned hurlock, Zevran stabbed it in the back. Leaving it dying on the ground, he went to Leliana.

Her eyes were wide, and bloody foam came from her mouth when she breathed. Only one side of her rib cage seemed to be filling with air as she breathed, the other had two many broken ribs to inflate properly. Zevran crouched beside her, but there was nothing he could do to help, besides offer a draught of one of the poisons he carried in his pack if her injuries proved untreatable.

Blair knelt beside him and began casting a healing spell. As the magic took hold Leliana first screamed, spraying a mist of blood on Zevran's armor, and then relaxed as the pain eased. Blair had to repeat the casting before she was able to sit up.

Blair then turned to Zevran. "Maker, you look horrific," Zevran said. Blair had apparently healed the cut over his ear, but blood still covered half his face and stained his robe.

"You don't look much better," Blair replied tersely, casting a healing spell on Zevran. The cut across his stomach and his other various bruises shot a bolt of pain through him before fading away to a mild ache.

Blair stood and strode to Alistair, who had come up behind them and stood watching with an anxious expression. "What the fuck was that?" Blair shouted. "You almost got us all killed! If I have two hurlocks after me I shouldn't have to leave my glyph of repulsion to keep Zevran from getting killed while you're chasing a fucking genlock! And if I cast a glyph of warding you do not leave it unless I tell you to. I don't care if an ogre knocks you out of it, you get off your ass and plant yourself back in that glyph until it expires! You're fucking useless! I should have left you at camp!"

Alistair had been looking mortified, but at this tirade he shouted back, "Who made you dictator?!"

"You did, you moron! Right from the time Duncan died you've been chickening out any time someone had to make a decision. You put me in charge, so when I tell you what to do you fucking do it!"

"I don't have to listen to this!" Alistair turned and started walking away.

"I can make you stay and listen to it!"

Alistair spun on his heel and his hand dropped to his sword hilt. "Do you want to see what Templars do to mages first hand?" he snarled.

Zevran straightened, preparing to charge Alistair from behind if he attacked Blair. Leliana beside him had sprung to her feet with surprising agility, but from the way her narrowed eyes focused on Blair it looked like she had a different target in mind. His lips tightened–Alistair was the priority, he could deal with her later if it came to that.

Fortunately it did not. Blair bit his lip and said quietly, "I'm sorry, I should not have said that. I will not use magic against any of you. If I were to you would be justified in killing me."

Alistair dropped his hand from his sword hilt but did not reply. He walked to Leliana and said, "I apologize for putting you in danger." He turned to Zevran and said ungraciously, "You too." Ignoring Blair, he strode back down the trail. Leliana stared at Blair for a moment and then followed Alistair.

Blair turned away and began searching the nearest darkspawn corpse. He pocketed a few coins, kicked aside the creature's sword, and moved on to the next darkspawn. This one stirred as he started to rifle its pockets and he straightened up with an annoyed sigh. Blue light spat from his hands into the genlock's chest, and it was still. Zevran cleaned his weapons and sheathed them, including his recovered dagger, then began searching the other darkspawn.

He found a polished malachite in the first darkspawn's pockets and asked, "Why do you suppose they carry around these gemstones? Do they keep them because they are pretty?"

For a moment Blair was silent and then said, "Maker knows."

Zevran turned to Blair. "Are you all right?"

"Just drop it!" Blair snapped.

"Very well." Zevran turned, annoyed, and started to search the next hurlock corpse.

"Wait." Blair paused. "I'm sorry. That was an awful battle, for no good reason. Three of us almost died. Then I succeeded in alienating two of the party–and when they get back to camp I'm sure Wynne will be annoyed with me too. Morrigan will just laugh at all of us," he said bitterly.

Zevran hesitated. He did not want to get mired in the group's problems, and with Blair's temper interference was liable to produce a similar outburst. But since he was traveling with them, it was his life also on the line. He said, "Right now you are just a group of people that happen to be heading the same direction, not a unified party."

Blair raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"There is no clear leadership. It seems the burden has fallen on you as no one else wants to carry it, and perhaps you are not sure how to handle it?"

Blair's face grew stormy, and Zevran expected him to lash out, but instead he said, "I don't know what I'm doing! In the Circle the most I had to do was lead a couple apprentices to the library to work on a group project. Then I get thrown out here and everyone tells me, 'Oh, you decide what to do, I can't be bothered.'"

Zevran smiled. "I don't think it's just that no one else wants to lead. I doubt you'd make a very good follower."

"Well, then, since you think I'm fucking it up and I can't defeat the Archdemon alone, what do you think I should do?"

"Perhaps excercise a little more patience?" Zevran suggested cautiously. "Alistair's mistake was serious, and should have been addressed in front of Leliana and me, but you did not need to embarrass him so publicly. Just the knowledge that his actions nearly got Leliana killed will cause him to think next time.

"Speaking of Alistair, he is well-liked by Wynne and Leliana, so his good opinion will go a long way towards swaying them. "

"Yes, Alistair." Blair sighed. "I have my own reasons for wanting to be on his good side, which I suppose I should remember."

"Why is that?"

"I believe it dates from our arrival in Redcliffe, when I first learned that his father was King Maric," Blair said wryly. Zevran stared unbelievingly. "What, you did not know that? He does not like to mention it, but I assumed you'd heard from someone. Yes, he is the heir presumptive."

"Alistair would make a . . . truly awful king," Zevran eventually said.

Blair cocked his head. "I think it all depends upon who he has as his advisor. But let's not get ahead of ourselves." The two finished searching the darkspawn corpses in silence, and headed down the trail toward camp. They met up with Alistair and Leliana a short distance down the trail, where they had apparently stopped to talk. Neither said anything, but Leliana smiled brightly as the two elves approached.

"You two will have to see Wynne when we get back to camp, to make sure the magic set the bones right," Blair said. "And be careful for the next couple weeks or they could break again. Magic can only do so much."

"Thanks, Blair," Leliana said, giving Blair a genuine smile. She glanced at Alistair, and might have said more if it would not have upset him. She seemed to have forgiven Blair for his outburst, and Zevran hoped Alistair would follow her lead. He looked morose at the reminder of Leliana and Zevran's injuries, but said nothing.

They walked back to camp in seemingly companionable silence. Zevran's mind, however, was fixed solely upon Blair. The mage seemed to have ambitions far beyond anything that Zevran had ever conceived.

Zevran's interests in the past focused upon the elegant execution of contracts, dining upon good food, and keeping company with beautiful women, or, occasionally, men. His situation was now completely different. Darkspawn did not require much in the way of finesse. He'd had one opportunity to creep up behind an emissary and drop it to the ground bleeding from multiple wounds in the first few seconds of combat, but mostly the few skirmishes they'd been in since Redcliffe involved executing maximum damage upon the maximum number of targets in the minimum amount of time. The food, well, that was variable. Morrigan could be an excellent cook, but they had run out of spices a few days ago, and she was limited by what they could find to put in the pot in the first place. The company? Leliana was a beautiful woman, but as friendly as she was seemed to have deeply-grounded assumptions about the role of elves that were hard for her to shake. Zevran was sometimes bemused that she managed to follow Blair's directions at all, but supposed that it might help that he was both a mage and a Gray Warden. Morrigan? She was a shapeshifter and could turn into a spider, and everyone knew those ate their mates.

Blair, on the other hand, interested him. He was handsome enough, liked a good joke, but was hard-mindedly pragmatic. Alistair had wanted Zevran dead but couldn't kill him himself, but if Blair had decided Zevran was better off dead he would have killed him and headed on towards Redcliffe without a second thought. Zevran respected that. Blair also was no stickler for the rules, as their late-night trip to the dungeons to help the blood mage escape testified. His willingness to flout the orders of the Circle, the Chantry, and the nobility suggested his company might lead to adventures on the wrong side of the law–or perhaps the noose. But that kind of danger was something Zevran was used to, and he thrived upon it.

Moreover, he thought that Blair might be interested in Zevran himself. He didn't appear to be attracted to Leliana or Morrigan. Alistair obviously found Morrigan attractive, and tried to cover it up by returning her insults with equal enthusiasm. But when Zevran caught Blair staring at Morrigan's breasts it appeared to be with an academic interest about whether she was about to fall out of her shirt or not. And that night in Redcliffe when Zevran had answered the door to his room naked he could swear there was something more in Blair's stare than just acute embarrassment. When Zevran joked with Blair, it had the taste of flirting.

And now to find that Blair had aspirations of putting someone on the throne of Ferelden whom he hoped to have some influence over! Definitely, Blair was becoming more and more interesting.

Zevran began to seek opportunities to talk to the mage. There were plenty to be had, since the trip to Denerim to search for Brother Genitivi was a long one. The group fell into a traveling routine, with Alistair and Wynne walking together while Zevran walked with Blair and his mabari, and Leliana flitted back and forth between the two sets. Morrigan sometimes walked with Blair and Zevran, or sometimes shapeshifted into a fox or hawk and ventured into the forest. Sten usually traveled without speaking to the others, and either led the party or took up the rear.

Blair was very curious about Zevran's life as a Crow. At first Zevran was not sure how to respond. He was tempted to give Blair a sanitized version. There were many stories he could have told that he imagined would cause Blair to immediately ask him to leave, and that was a risk he could not take. But he found that Blair received the little that he did tell him with such equanimity that he began to test to see what would shock him. He chose the story of the mage he had been hired to kill who had nearly succeeded in tricking him into letting her escape. He got to the part of the story where the mage begged for him to spare her life and offered to have sex with him as a delaying tactic when Blair interrupted.

"What, you _raped_ her?"

"Certainly not!" Zevran said, stung. "I did not force her, she offered."

"Yes, because you were going to kill her."

"She was fighting back the best way she knew how. Indeed, she used the opportunity to try to kill me twice. I would not deny my targets the chance to defend themselves, nor deny them some pleasure before death, if that is their desire."

"So you had sex with her and then killed her?"

"Well, that was the initial plan."

"If the outcome's a foregone conclusion, just turn her down and kill her." Blair raised his voice, and Zevran glanced around, not wishing anyone else to overhear their conversation. "How could you put someone through that humiliation?"

Zevran was rattled. "If I had thought she felt that way I would have. But I don't think she did. I certainly made sure she enjoyed it."

"And then killed her," Blair said curtly.

"No, actually. She actually managed to talk me into interceding on her behalf with the Crows, in between . . . other activities. So I would say she won that encounter." Blair actually stopped and stared at him in surprise. "I was very young, only fifteen," Zevran said, by way of excuse. "Other similar encounters since then have not ended the same way."

"So what happened?"

"Something that seemed very unfortunate at the time. The next morning as I kissed her goodbye she fell out of the carriage and broke her neck. She died instantly. There was nothing else for me to do, so I reported her death to my master. The Crows were quite pleased that I managed to make the death look like an accident."

"Were you upset?" Blair sounded completely perplexed, the whole scenario outside his realm of experience.

"I was more disappointed. But that was before I learned that she told the driver to take her away to the provinces. She planned to give me the slip, which would leave me to explain things to the Crows. You know they don't take failure lightly, and most certainly would have used me as an object lesson for the other young Crows. So I suppose I was rather lucky, in fact. And it taught me a lesson, not to let a pretty face go to my head."

"I don't understand how it is possible to have sex with someone and then kill them, especially if they know what you have planned."

"I suppose not. . . To me, sex is like dancing or dueling. It's something that requires practice, agility, and a certain amount of strength. But it's something that can be done equally well with a friend or an enemy. I suppose it was not always this way, and perhaps I forget that not everyone thinks of it so. I hope I am not a cruel man, and I will consider this. . ."

They were interrupted by the sound of raised voices towards the front of the group. Zevran and Blair had been lagging behind, Greagoir padding after them, and sped up to see what was going on. Sten was waiting farther up the road, while the rest of the party gathered behind Alistair and Morrigan. Alistair stood in the road, sword drawn, with Morrigan facing him with a look of contempt. On the dusty road near them coiled a black snake, hissing at the people gathered around it.

"So typical, Alistair. You fear something, so your first reaction is to kill it," Morrigan sneered.

"But it's a snake! And I'm not afraid of it," Alistair objected. "Just–it's a snake. You kill snakes," he said, but sheathed his sword.

"And why? Do you fear it will fling itself around your neck and strangle you?"

"Fine then, leave it!" Alistair said with embarrassed annoyance, and started down the road. Leliana and Wynne followed him, skirting widely around the snake.

Morrigan turned to them and said superciliously, "I suppose you'd like to kill it too?"

Blair ignored her, looking at the snake in amazement. "I've never seen a snake." Greagoir pricked his ears and barked, staring at the snake, and Blair put his hand on the dog's neck to still it.

Zevran smiled at his awed expression and headed towards it. Morrigan put her staff in front of him to block him, and he stopped short and said, "I'm not going to harm it." Morrigan sniffed, but turned and followed the others down the road.

The snake had uncoiled and started to slither away, and Zevran caught its tail and then swiftly grabbed it behind the head. Turning to Blair, he held the snake out. "Would you like to hold it?"

He had half thought that Blair might refuse, but he stretched out his hand and touched the rough scales. "Here, take it behind the head." Blair mimicked his grip, and soon Zevran had the snake uncoiled from his wrist and handed over.

"It's beautiful," said Blair. "I'd always thought they must be ugly animals, from what I read in books." With his free hand he loosened some of the coils the snake had thrown around his wrist.

"Most kinds are beautiful, in their way. There is one in Antiva that is banded red, yellow, and black, like some kind of enameled necklace. But its venom is among the most deadly in the country. This one is not venomous, but there are others in Ferelden that are."

"You take an interest in snakes?"

"Of course. The Crows often use snake venom in their poisons. As a child I learned to milk the venom from their fangs. Poisons are one of my specialties, so I am familiar with all of the venomous species of Thedas."

Blair's admiration of the snake hardly lessened when it defecated some very foul-smelling excrement on his wrist. "I think it's time to let it go," he said, wrinkling his nose. The two untangled the snake and Blair put it down, stepping back quickly when he released its head. But it just slithered rapidly into the brush by the road, disappearing with a final flick of its tail. Fall was approaching, so it was probably seeking somewhere to hide from the winter's cold.

Blair held his arm out from him with a look of distaste. "Now I just need to find a stream," he said. Greagoir sniffed him and panted, wagging his tail approvingly. Zevran laughed at Blair's expression, and they followed the others down the road.

"So what poisons are made with snake venom?" Blair asked as they slowly caught up with the others.

Zevran described the different types of poisons, ranging from poisons that would kill in a matter of minutes to those that caused a long, tormented death. "There is little use for these slow-acting poisons in assassination, however. The slower the course, the more chance there is that someone will realize the antidote, or that medical treatment or healing magic will help preserve the victim's life. These poisons are more often used by someone with a personal motivation, seeking revenge. In an assassination the goal is to kill as quickly as possible."

"No one ever asks that the Crows use such poisons as a way of sending a message to their enemies?"

"I have heard of cases like this. Usually the poisons used are ingested, because symptoms are delayed. This both gives the assassin time to get away and ensures that by the time symptoms appear, it is too late to purge the poison. Amanita mushrooms are frequently chosen for this purpose. But in general such poisons are the tool of a murderer with a very personal grudge. I stick with a dagger and a good, fast poison."

Blair nodded thoughtfully but said nothing. Zevran looked at him questioningly. "So, this talk of assassination does not bother you?" Zevran asked.

"I don't like it, but I suppose it happens. And no doubt some of the people you've killed deserved to die."

"A good many of them, I think," Zevran said. "Yet some did not."

"Does that bother you?"

Zevran shrugged. "I try to avoid unnecessary death. Guards, no, they just add to the challenge! But others, harmless ones, I try not to kill. It does happen sometimes, but then death comes to everyone. I am merely at times the instrument."

"So you don't care."

"One does not become a Crow by indulging such sentiments. Either you learn to set them aside, or you die."

Blair narrowed his lips and shot Zevran a sidelong glance, but did not pursue the subject. Zevran was grateful. It was in truth not something he understood himself. Sometimes he was able to kill a person because he simply knew he must to complete the mission, but at other times, he felt as if he truly were an instrument, used by someone else, delivering death without self-direction.

The conversation seemed to have died down. They had caught up with the others and Blair broke away to talk to Leliana, leaving Zevran to walk on alone. Zevran thought Blair was probably regretting the conversation. Yet he felt unwilling to lie to Blair about who he was. He hoped Blair could tolerate being on friendly terms, but if not, well, it was better to know now.

The next morning as they broke camp a light drizzle was falling, and threatening to turn to rain. This type of weather was typical in Ferelden, especially as the seasons changed, but very unlike what he was accustomed to in Antiva. Zevran pulled his hood over his head and shouldered his pack. He stood by the ashes of the campfire, which Morrigan had conscientiously extinguished with pond water in spite of the rain, and waited for the rest of the group to gather. Blair came up to him, staff in one hand and something held in the other.

"I thought I'd give this to you," he said, holding out his hand, not quite looking at Zevran.

Zevran took the object and examined it. It was a small flask, corked, with wax around the cork, and a wire tightly clamping to the cork to the neck of the flask for good measure. A small tag on the wire read "Adder's Kiss". He smiled, recognizing the formulation. "Thank you," he said.

"It's nothing. I found it some time back and thought it should go to someone who could use it." Strangely, Blair seemed a little embarrassed.

"I appreciate it. It's a very good poison." He grinned and cocked his head. "And now I can say that you gave me a kiss."

Blair hurried away wordlessly. No snide comment? And a shyly given, curiously apt gift. Unless he was badly mistaken, it looked like the elven mage was interested in him. It was an unexpected development after the previous night's conversation, but not an unwelcome one. He slid the flask into a pocket on his pack and headed out with the rest of the group, finding himself in a better mood than he had anticipated.

* * *

Followed by **The Broad Road, Second Interlude: An Evening at the Opera**


	3. Blood Magic

Preceded by **The Broad Road, Second Interlude: An Evening at the Opera**

* * *

**Chapter 3: Blood Magic**

In search of the fabled Urn of Sacred Ashes, the party had entered the ancient temple built into the mountainside above Haven. The other half of the party was camped just inside the entrance to the Temple, guarding against returning cultists and catching up on routine chores such as equipment repairs and washing clothing. Blair had taken a few of the party further into the temple. Leliana had begged to come along to explore the ancient temple, and Alistair accompanied them at Blair's request. Blair was trying to keep Alistair close, Zevran noted. He and Alistair had patched things up along the way to Denerim and back, but Blair still seemed tense.

They traveled deeper into the ruins of the temple until eventually they reached a tunnel cut through the wall of the temple and into the mountain itself. The cult of the supposed risen Andraste had apparently been at work here for generations, slowly digging out these passageways. They now followed the tunnel as it wended slowly upwards, the flickering light of their torches casting dancing shadows on the sandstone walls. Initially when they entered the tunnels they were lit by torches at intervals, but when the cultists realized their stronghold was being invaded they had removed the torches, leaving the tunnels in darkness. Zevran scouted ahead in the darkness, keeping eyes and ears alert for archers who could use the torchlight behind him to choose their targets. But while they had run into multiple groups of cultists, so far they had not proven to be much of a challenge, in spite of the murderous frenzy some were able to summon. They were not practiced enough in combat, nor properly equipped.

Moving silently through the darkness, Zevran came to a widening in the tunnel. He cautiously moved forward, and as the others with their torches approached he saw the tunnel opened to a large cavern, with no other exit. The cave was empty. He waited for Blair to catch up. "It's a dead end," he said.

"All right, we'll go back and take the left fork. Anything in those crates?" Blair asked. Zevran and Leliana started going through the crates, but found nothing of use. They started back towards the entrance but stopped as they heard something large coming up the tunnel.

"Hold the tunnel," Blair snapped, and Alistair and Zevran moved to block the tunnel entrance, drawing their weapons. A full-grown drake stepped into the torchlight, followed closely by a second, and Zevran felt the familiar cold rush of fear and excitement. The first drake hissed, its breath stinking of sulfur. Claws digging furrows in the rocky ground, it charged Alistair. He raised his shield but the impact knocked him on his back, and both drakes crowded into the cave. Alistair regained his feet quickly and slashed at the drake, cutting its face, drawing an enraged hiss. Zevran moved to get the drake between himself and its companion and tested its scales with a stab. His blade glanced harmlessly off the broad scales and he growled in frustration.

Blair raised a glyph of warding around Alistair, but it could not turn aside all claw swipes or stop the drakes from breathing fire. Soon Blair had his hands full keeping Alistair healed and casting paralyzing or stunning spells. Zevran found the drake's scales to be frustratingly effective at turning his blades, and Leliana's arrows often skipped harmlessly off their armored skin–one narrowly missing him. Zevran looked for less heavily-armored areas, and lunged to stab at the back of the drake's knee. His sword sliced through the thin scales. The drake roared and whipped its tail at him. He sprang aside and risked a glance up–it seemed a while since Blair had cast any spells. He saw Blair was firing shots from his staff, but not casting. Zevran looked back to the drake and stabbed the wound in the back of its leg again, feeling his sword cut through cartilage.

The drake roared and turned on Zevran, and he gave ground. His leather armor could not stand up to the drake's claws and teeth, and if it got a good paw swipe in he was as good as dead. Desperate, he aimed a flurry of attacks at its face, hoping to turn it. To his surprise a lucky stab through its eye and into its brain dropped it to the ground, dead.

Then the remaining drake leaped upon Alistair, bearing him to the ground, and began to savage him. Zevran stabbed at its flanks and blood ran down its belly, but it would not be distracted.

Zevran glanced up, hoping Blair would be able to help, and saw Blair draw his knife. Surely he wasn't planning on fighting the beast! But instead Blair drew the blade across his own arm, cutting it deeply. He blanched at the pain, and an unfamiliar fiery aura blossomed around him. Blair stepped forward and released a cone of cold at the drake.

The reptile reared back, and Alistair dragged himself out from under it as Blair cast a healing spell upon him. But something was obviously wrong–Blair slumped to his knees and the strange aura dissipated.

Leliana ran to his side while Alistair and Zevran cut down the wounded drake. Zevran stabbed at the weak spot behind its knee, and the drake's hind leg buckled beneath it. It turned its long neck to aim a breath of fire at him, and Alistair leaped onto its back. It tried to throw him off, but he straddled its shoulders and hacked at its neck. The smaller scales on its neck couldn't block the ax blade, and blood gushed from its neck. It began to reel as he struck at it again. As Alistair finished cutting down the drake, Zevran ran to where Blair knelt on the cavern floor.

Blair had cut himself deep, and the blood surged forth with every heartbeat. Zevran laid him back on the ground and pressed both hands over the cut, but could still feel the blood pumping out between his fingers. He heard a ripping of fabric and Leliana started wrapping a strip of a torn shirt around Blair's arm. He moved his hands aside as she finished the bandaging, then helped add a second layer as blood began to wick through the first. Blair looked groggy and was only half-conscious, but as deep as the cut was, they had gotten to him quickly, and blood loss alone couldn't explain it.

Alistair strode angrily towards them. "That was blood magic!"

"Ah, that is the cause of this," Zevran said. "He's burned half his life force saving _your_ life." Zevran took Blair's shoulder and shook him. "Blair! Look at me. You need to heal yourself." Blair blinked at him blearily and started to close his eyes. "Alistair, I should let you do this," Zevran said, and smartly backhanded Blair.

Blair's eyes snapped open and Zevran saw a spark of anger. He tried to push himself more upright with his uninjured hand and began to cast a healing spell. It seemed to take a little longer than usual to complete, and when the magic took effect he doubled over with a groan. A moment later he sat up again and stripped the bandage off his arm. The cut had healed to an angry red scar.

"You used blood magic," Alistair said again accusingly.

"Are you complaining?" asked Zevran. "I'm sure he would not have done it had he realized you preferred us all to be dead."

Blair ignored him. "I was out of mana and out of potions. The drake was about to eat your face off." Zevran stepped back as he cautiously stood, still a little weak but steady on his feet.

"But blood magic!" Alistair protested.

"I thought you said Gray Wardens do what they have to do. Duncan told you that you are a Gray Warden, not a Templar, right? We need to live to defeat the blight, and without blood magic we wouldn't have made it."

"You could try buying more lyrium potions!"

"If you'll remember, we spent the party purse on that ax of yours. And merchants appear to consider Gray Wardens a bad credit risk."

Leliana said, "Maybe not all blood magic is so bad? The only one Blair hurt was himself. If he is using it to help us maybe it's not evil?"

"It's evil because to get it he had to make a deal with a _demon_! When was that, Blair? What did you give up?"

Blair lifted his chin and looked levelly at Alistair. "At my Harrowing I met a demon in the Fade. It tried to possess me and failed, and I let it live in exchange for teaching me blood magic."

Zevran had seen enough lies to know one. Alistair did not have the same experience. "Great, what will you ask from the next demon we come across? And what will you offer it?" he asked.

"I made that deal because I was trapped in the Circle and my best friend was about to be made Tranquil against his will. I was looking for any way out. I regret it now, but if I need to use blood magic to help us, I will."

Alistair appeared pacified, for the moment at least. "We'll talk of this later."

"Then let's move on." He retrieved his knife from where it lay on the ground nearby, and they headed back to the fork in the tunnels.

Traveling up the other fork, they met several ambushes and killed the cultists without much difficulty, even with Blair attempting to conserve mana. In a fight with a mage and several cultists Leliana was injured when one of the men leaped out of hiding and stabbed her in the back. Fortunately her armor turned the blade enough that it left just a shallow gash. Blair healed her while the others searched the bodies.

"Let's call it a night," Alistair said. "It must be getting late, and we should go get more lyrium potions before moving on," he said, shooting a glare at Blair. "Seems the resistance is getting stronger."

"Very well," said Blair. They paused to relight Leliana's torch, which had gone out when she dropped it to ready her bow, and headed back the way they had come. Alistair and Leliana went first, and Blair started to follow them but stopped and stared into the darkness behind them. Zevran turned to look as well, and listened carefully for sounds of someone moving in the tunnel, but heard and saw nothing. He glanced at Blair, and saw he was definitely looking at something.

He stepped closer and asked, "What is it?"

Blair looked at him, and Zevran was surprised to see his pupils were dilated far beyond what the low light would cause, as if he had used belladonna. Blair shook his head, "Nothing." But he looked back down the tunnel again.

"Is it the lyrium?" Zevran asked with sudden understanding. Alistair had said that the Chantry gave Templars lyrium to get them addicted, but he had not considered the implications of Blair's use of lyrium potions.

Blair laughed unsteadily, and Zevran thought he sounded drunk. "Yes, that's what it does." He started down the tunnel after the others, and Zevran followed.

"_What_ does it do?"

Blair turned to look back down the tunnel. "Makes me see things, mostly."

"What kinds of things?"

"I can't explain it really. Maybe makes me see more? And then I see . . . shapes."

Among the Crows getting drunk once in a while was tolerated, but only rarely would they use other drugs. Zevran himself had never used intoxicants, however, he had seen others use them. One whore Taliesin had hired had swallowed a vial of laudanum and spent half the night collapsed in a stupor, of little use to anyone. They had thrown her out in the morning with half her pay. Another time a mark had eaten psilocybin mushrooms, and tried to get him to try them as well. The man was soon seeing things that weren't there and laughing at nothing. Zevran had pretended to swallow the mushrooms but spat them out, but even then had swallowed enough that soon colors seemed much more vivid. The scarlet of the man's blood when Zevran had stabbed him was unforgettable. It seemed lyrium produced a similar reaction to those mushrooms, but Zevran had the uneasy feeling that the things that lyrium made Blair see might actually be real.

"Shapes?" he asked.

"Yes. Like that one," Blair said, pointing back down the tunnel, apparently forgetting that Zevran could not see whatever it was. He stepped closer and said in a low voice, "It's watching me."

Alarmed, Zevran took Blair's arm and led him down the tunnel after the others, as if they could just walk away from whatever was following Blair. "Don't tell them about it," he said urgently.

Blair rolled his eyes. "I'm not stupid," he said, apparently too high to realize that it might be foolish to tell Zevran about his visions in the first place. But when they caught up with Alistair and Leliana Blair said no more about seeing anything out of the ordinary.

The next two days were busy, with more cultists to kill, including the leader of the cult. Zevran and Blair had a brief argument about that, since the cult leader offered a truce and the opportunity to learn how to summon the battle frenzy possessed by his followers if they would destroy the Ashes for him, and Zevran thought they should take him up on his offer. The deal had been blown when Blair snapped at Zevran that he'd much rather kill religious fanatics than aid them. With a sigh, Zevran had drawn his sword and gutted the cultist guard who had leaped at Blair. That marked the start of a skirmish that ended with the cult leader's blood soaking into the sandy cavern floor.

Finally they reached the mountaintop only to find the risen Andraste–a dragon. It soared overhead, landing on a peak rising over the ruined tower.

"Maker's breath!" Leliana gasped.

"Please do not tell me we must fight that thing," Zevran told Blair. Blair looked so pale Zevran was afraid he might faint.

"If we had so much trouble with a few drakes how can we expect to kill a dragon?" asked Alistair, gripping the handle of his ax with white knuckles.

"Let's get back to camp," Blair said, his voice unsteady. "We can plan what to do there." In subdued silence, they headed through the empty tunnels back to camp.

* * *

Follow by **Gates of Life, Chapter 4: Deception**


	4. Deception

Preceded by **Gates of Life Chapter 3: Blood Magic **

* * *

**Chapter 4: Deception**

"As bizarre as it is to find myself asking this, what do we know about killing dragons?" Blair asked.

Morrigan spoke up. "I believe I probably have the most knowledge of dragons passed on from one who knows first-hand. Does anyone else know anything about dragons that was not received from books or legends?"

"Flemeth, I assume," Blair said dryly. "Go ahead. The most I've heard is reports of dragons laying waste to villages, nothing about killing them."

"What I know is limited. While myths tell of dragons with breath that corrodes armor or drains life force, most dragons breathe fire. They are horrendously strong, but because they are so large cannot turn rapidly, which gives us an advantage as we are more nimble. They do have the ability to strike out at multiple attackers at once, though, with their forelimbs and tail. And the wind from a flap of their wings can knock you sprawling."

"I suppose it's too much to hope for some tale of a fatal weakness," Blair asked. "Can anyone else add anything?"

"We have some ointments that are said to protect against heat, but I don't know how well they would work against a dragon's breath," Leliana said. "They will let you hold a firebrand in your hand without much pain."

"So are we all going to ride off to battle and be killed by this thing?" asked Alistair. "We are the only two Gray Wardens in Ferelden, if we fall here the Archdemon's darkspawn will overrun the country."

"Yes, if we do decide to fight it we will have to split up. Alistair, you will not be fighting it in any case. I don't doubt your bravery, but we cannot put both Gray Wardens into the fight. If we cannot get past this dragon we cannot retrieve the Urn, and we cannot heal the Arl. If we are unable to heal the Arl you may still have a chance to discredit Loghain since you are King Maric's son."

"Who would believe that without the Arl to back me up?"

"You think they would be more likely to side against Teyrn Loghain, hero of Ferelden, with an elven mage?"

Alistair laughed bitterly. "No, I suppose not."

"Then that is settled. If we do fight it I will go, because I can't ask you to fight an enemy I won't face myself. Morrigan, I would like you to come as well, and Sten and Zevran."

"Well, this is a dubious honor," Zevran said wryly.

"Is that a refusal?" Blair asked sharply.

Zevran hesitated. He had promised to serve Blair, though in the past he would have assumed such promises had an unwritten "until you send me to battle dragons" clause. But he had expected to be asked to go into danger, and had already done so many times.

Besides, if Zevran refused to go into battle with Blair just because of the risk, that made his word meaningless. Zevran had lied to and deceived many people in his life, but he had never betrayed a friend–at least not purposefully, and his failure in Rinna's case was his greatest shame. He was surprised to find that Blair had become a friend at some point on the road to Denerim and back. He and Blair had faced darkspawn together, and each saved the other's life, and he enjoyed talking to the mage. When Zevran joined the party his vow had merely been a way to avoid dying in the dirt, but at some point it had become real.

"No," he said finally. "If you will fight the dragon, I will fight with you."

"A dragon," said Morrigan. "How could I deny the chance to kill a dragon? If you insist upon this insanity, well, I will accompany you."

"I will do it," Sten said in his usual stolid tone. Blair gave him a noncommittal look. Sten had challenged Blair over their coming to Haven, saying it was a waste of time, and Blair had made him back down. At the time Zevran had been worried it might come to a fight, but in retrospect the sight of the elf facing down a giant twice his size was more than a little funny.

Blair stood. "We will need more lyrium. We will travel to the Circle of Magi tomorrow, then return to fight the dragon."

The group dispersed, some to their tents, Leliana to gather firewood, and Morrigan to cook supper. At Morrigan's request, Blair picked up the bucket and headed to the stream to get some water, and Zevran followed him quietly on an impulse. They had gone out of earshot of the camp before Zevran called his name. Blair spun around, startled, then relaxed.

"You're liable to get electrocuted sneaking up on mages like that."

"I wanted to get you alone," Zevran replied.

"Unrequited love, so sad!" Blair laughed.

Normally Zevran would have gone along with the teasing, but not today. "Actually I wanted to talk about something important."

Blair sobered. "I assume blood magic? I would think that you would understand."

"I'm not opposed to it. But I do want to know how you got it. I know your Harrowing story, I also know it was a lie."

"Believe it or not, as you like!" Blair retorted.

"I am going to fight a dragon at your request, do you not think I deserve the truth? I will not tell the others. Was it the demon who had Connor? Is he not free?" Blair gave him a pained look and he knew he had the truth of it. "So the demon lives." This placed Blair's sudden decision to free Jowan in a new light. A crisis of conscience, perhaps?

Blair dropped the bucket on the ground and rubbed his temples. "Yes, but it has left Connor. I got that much. I tried to get more, but. . ." He swallowed. "It retains the contract, and may return."

Zevran stared in disbelief. "Will return, you mean. And his mother dead to save him from this."

"I didn't mean for it to happen that way!"

"I would credit you with a level of manipulative genius worthy of a Crow master, to convince a mother to sacrifice herself for her son only for you to trade his soul for your benefit, but since you did it accidentally–I'm not sure what to think."

"Maker help me, I meant to save him. I tried to persuade the demon to disavow the contract, but it would not give me that in addition to blood magic."

"I must confess this all comes as a surprise to me. I would have expected you to just kill it. What could drive you to such a calculated decision?"

"It was not calculated!"

Zevran waved the objection away. "Use whatever words you like. You weighed his interests and your interests in the balance, and your interests were more compelling. What shifted the balance?"

Blair said hesitantly, "You saw Jowan. I knew him in the Circle Tower. He studied blood magic without my knowledge. The Templars found out about it and the First Enchanter agreed to make him Tranquil. Jowan was able to use blood magic to stop them as they tried to arrest him and escape the Tower. He was never more than a barely competent apprentice before. That kind of power would help immensely in fighting the Blight."

Zevran found himself getting irritated. That speech would fit better coming from Wynne's lips. "Are you truly that self-deceived? You did it for yourself. I understand the desire for power, but to trade another's liberty and then lie to yourself about it is repugnant."

Blair curled his lip. "You want to talk about self-deception? You seem well-versed in that, with your pretended indifference to the fates of those you've killed."

Zevran crossed his arms. "If that is so, then I lie to myself about how hard-hearted I am, while you lie to yourself about how selfless you are. Which is the worse deception?"

Blair turned his back and was silent for a moment, staring at the ground. "You are right. I did it for myself. In the Tower . . . we were always watched. Templars patrolled the Tower at all hours, watching us and listening to us talk. Sometimes they would come into the library or into our rooms and take the apprentices' books and notes, and read them to make sure we weren't studying anything unauthorized that might be dangerous. You might expect the mages to object to this, but most said they had to do it and were protecting us from ourselves.

"Those that they thought might be dangerous, maybe with dangerous interests or weak-willed, they would take away and make Tranquil. The rest of us had to go through the Harrowing, where they drop an apprentice barely coming into their power into the Fade and summon a demon to attempt to possess them. If they fail to defeat the demon, or just take too long in waking, the Templars kill them. I did not know what the Harrowing actually was until I was Harrowed, but I did know that some apprentices went to the Harrowing and were never seen again. No one talked much about it."

He turned and approached Zevran a few steps. "So of course I took the first chance I had to escape the Tower. I did not find until after the Joining that being a Gray Warden means I will die prematurely even if the darkspawn do not succeed in killing me. But if I had known, I would still have traded the cage of the Circle for the cage of the Wardens, and now that I am out of the Circle I will use whatever means I can to make sure no one ever has that type of power over me again."

Zevran couldn't help thinking of a different kind of cage, the cell he had been locked in as a child, surrounded by the weeping of frightened and injured children. Blair's prison may have been less horrific, but it was still a prison, and he felt an unexpected kinship with the elven mage.

"I do regret it though. I was too hasty. A mage willing to make a deal with a demon will always find one, and I should not have made someone else pay the price. I wish every day I could go back, find some way–" He looked away and bit his lip.

Zevran didn't make any conscious decision, but crossed to him and embraced the mage. Blair stiffened, but then relaxed against him. Zevran found himself wondering, what do I do now? In other circumstances he knew quite well the moves of the dance. But this was an unfamiliar pattern.

He was saved from confusion by Morrigan's mocking voice. "I see I am interrupting. If you're not going to bring the water, hand me the bucket and I will get it myself."

Zevran stepped back, looking up the trail at Morrigan. They had been talking quietly, and Morrigan was too far away to have heard them. She continued down the trail to join them.

Blair picked up the bucket. "I was just about to get it. If you would like to go back to camp I will bring it in a minute."

"A minute? And Zevran, you brag of your endurance?"

Zevran saw Blair flush with embarrassment and felt annoyed at the witch. He was sure Blair would go straight back to camp and avoid him all evening now that she'd come along. "If you'd like a personal demonstration I am at your disposal," he said automatically, disguising his irritation.

"If I get to test your endurance by seeing how long you can hang by your thumbs, certainly."

"I'm sorry to have to disappoint you, but that's a little extreme even for me."

"Pity." He and Morrigan stood staring at each other. It appeared she was waiting for him to leave, but he was not going to leave until she did. Blair shrugged and turned to go to the stream.

"Blair," Morrigan called. He turned and waited. "Blood magic, I hear–full of surprises! Certainly you did not trade your soul. How did you get it?"

"I met a demon in the Harrowing at the Circle of Magi–and no, I did not trade my soul." Zevran took care that his face revealed nothing.

"Well, do not tell me if you do not desire to." Turning dismissively, she headed to camp.

Blair looked at Zevran and then turned wordlessly and headed to the stream. Zevran started to follow him but Blair said, "Please, I would like to be alone."

"Very well," Zevran said. "I will tell no one, you know this?"

"I do. Thank you." The other elf nodded and walked down the trail. Zevran turned and went back to camp.

Of course one more obstacle faced Blair that evening. When Zevran returned he found Wynne and Alistair standing off to the side, talking very seriously. Wynne looked angry. Zevran found himself feeling relieved that she specialized in defensive and healing magic.

Blair soon returned with the full bucket, which he deposited by the fire. He'd barely set it down before Wynne approached him. Wynne was the only person in the group that Blair seemed uncertain around. Zevran thought it was simply because she was a Circle mage, human, and a lot older than Blair, because Blair had told him he had not had much contact with Wynne while in the Tower. Now Zevran could tell from the look on his face that he would like to run or disappear, but he held his ground. Zevran moved closer to overhear what was heard, ostensibly to search through his pack for something. He noticed that activity around the entire camp had slowed, and everyone seemed to be half-watching the impending confrontation.

"I hear you are a blood mage," Wynne accused. She spoke loudly enough that Zevran was sure everyone in the camp had heard her.

"You heard correctly," Blair answered, not as loud, but in a steady voice.

"The Gray Wardens have a lax policy on maleficars."

"Yes, they seem to consider saving the lives of millions a higher priority than policing unconventional mages," Blair said, with something approaching his usual acerbity.

"Do you expect me to help you, when you are using demon magic?"

"No, I would expect you to leave the group. But I would hope that you would stay. You've saved the lives of all of us, and our odds of succeeding in destroying the Archdemon are higher with you along. Besides, I am going to fight a dragon and may soon be dead. If that happens, Alistair will need your help."

His voice softened and Zevran had to strain to hear him. "Wynne, you know that these things are not always as simple as they initially appear. My soul is my own, and I owe nothing to any demon. I am no abomination. Please, think it over before you leave us."

There was a pause. "Very well, I will stay until the battle with the dragon is concluded, but I make no promises beyond that point."

"Thank you, Wynne." As she headed back towards the campfire Blair gave Zevran a half-smile and went to his tent.

That night as Zevran kept watch he tried to sort out what he thought of Blair's deal with the demon. In a way he almost admired him, since what he'd done was devious enough to get any Crow's approval. Yet he was also disappointed. Blair clearly hadn't thought it through, which didn't impress him, and the fact that he'd left a child he claimed to have saved in the hands of a demon rankled. Such duplicity had been a matter of course in the Crows, but he had hoped he'd put that behind him. Yet what else could Blair do? No amount of regret could change the past, and letting the truth be known would just be suicide. Finally Zevran determined the situation wasn't enough to alienate him from the mage, but it was a reminder to keep his eyes open.

* * *

Followed by **Gates of Life Chapter 5: Dragonslayers**


	5. Dragonslayers

Preceded by **Gates of Life Chapter 4: Deception **

**

* * *

**They started on their way to the Tower as the leaves were beginning to change. At times the path curved away out of sight of the lake, and at other times traveled almost at the water's edge. As they camped at night often the lapping of the lake waters against the shore lulled them to sleep. The nights grew colder, though there was still no threat of frost. Zevran found Ferelden too cool and rainy for his tastes even in summer, and began to dread traveling in the coming winter.

Finally Zevran caught his first glimpse of the tower, a tall spire jutting up out of the water in the distance. As he grew closer he saw it stood on a barren island. With nothing to use for scale, it was hard to say how tall the tower was. Upon reaching the shore, they found a small village huddled at the edge of the lake. It was clear from the state of the roads that not much trade got in or out. Jutting into the lake was the ruins of an ancient causeway that had once run over the waters to the Circle Tower. Zevran could not tell if it had fallen from disuse or purposefully been destroyed. Beside the ruins was a dock with a ferry and a couple smaller boats waiting tied to it. A Templar was posted at the docks.

Zevran had never seen Blair around a Templar before and glanced at him, curious to see his reaction. Blair was staring at the man, tight-lipped. He turned to Alistair and said in a low voice, "Why don't you go talk to him, he's your kind."

The contempt in his tone was unmistakable and Zevran thought Alistair would surely take offense, but he just gave Blair a strangely sympathetic look and said with forced cheer, "No need for us all to go. If you give me a list I'll go over."

Blair seemed surprised, and then said in a more normal tone. "I'm sorry . . . thank you, but I'll go."

"As will I," Wynne said, coming up behind them. "I would like to speak to some friends."

"You would not deprive me of the chance to see the Circle Tower up close?" Zevran asked Blair.

In the end it was sorted out that everyone except Sten, Leliana, and Morrigan would cross the lake to the Tower. It would have made sense for Wynne and Blair to go buy magical supplies, but it seemed to Zevran as if Blair felt his not going would be cowardly, and Alistair was unwilling to let Blair go into the Tower without his fellow Gray Warden for backup–a fact that made him unexpectedly feel more friendly towards the younger Gray Warden. Zevran also wanted to go to the Tower, both to see the Ferelden Circle's headquarters and from curiosity about Blair's former prison.

"I believe I've seen as much of the Tower as I'd ever like," Leliana said, deciding to stay behind. She said under her breath to Zevran, "I hope you don't get to meet any abominations!"

Alistair walked to the Templar at the docks and requested passage for the four and the mabari. Greagoir was sticking close to Blair, seemingly sensing his anxiety. The Templar had an insolent air but seemed to recognize the Gray Wardens, and soon they were crowded onto the ferry sailing for the Tower.

As they drew closer the Tower seemed even taller. It stood on an island of craggy granite, with only small bushes and weeds managing to find a roothold. The main spire must have been over 400 feet tall, and two smaller guard towers jutted out on either side. Looking up its sheer walls Zevran saw there were only window slits too narrow to let a person through until the fifth story. Anyone planning on escaping would not be going down the walls of the Tower.

The ferry reached the Tower dock and the Templar tied it fast and helped Wynne disembark. The others climbed out and they walked up a beaten path to the gates of the Tower. Two Templars stationed there opened the gates and the party entered the dimly lit gatehouse. Torches burned on the walls, and slits in the wall led into darkness on either side. Glancing up, Zevran was not surprised to see holes in the ceiling as well. Anyone trying to get into–or out of–the Tower would be delayed while getting through the double gates, and the Templars would be able to fire upon them through the slits in the walls, or pour boiling oil from above.

The gates closed behind them with a grinding of hinges and a final clang, leaving them in torchlight. Alistair led the way to the other end of the gatehouse and pulled a chain there. A gong sounded on the other side of the gate. A minute later someone drew aside a small panel set in the door and peered through, and then the gates started to open.

They stepped through into a large oval room with a domed ceiling. Some Templars walked by, but Zevran saw no mages. Wynne wordlessly left the group and went to a large door in the right-hand wall, talking to one of the guards there. Alistair and Blair headed towards the back of the room, with Zevran following. A long table stood against the wall, and a man seated there was comparing two pages of figures, muttering to himself.

"We'd like to make a purchase," Blair said.

The man looked up and apparently recognized Blair, and, uniquely, seemed pleased to see them. "Gray Wardens! How can I help you?"

Blair started dictating a list of supplies, mostly lyrium potions and lyrium, but some other potion ingredients as well. Zevran took the chance to look around. He saw that the other Templars in the room seemed acutely aware of Blair's presence, some simply curious, others hostile. All appeared to be going about their business, but frequently glanced in Blair's direction. A few were frankly staring, talking to each other as they watched Blair. They reminded him of sheepdogs with a wolf dropped in their midst. He wondered if their hostility resulted from Blair's expulsion from the Circle, or the fact that he'd managed to clear the Tower of abominations when the Templars could not.

He began to roam the room, looking at the tapestries on the wall. They depicted Templars in battle against demons and a figure he recognized as a revenant. He smiled in cold amusement when he saw a few depicted Templars putting to the sword figures dressed in mage's robes. As he was looking at the tapestries he stepped back and into a spot where a trick of the architecture carried Wynne's voice to him from across the room.

He heard her say as if she was just behind his shoulder, "I'm afraid he's not much of a Gray Warden." He was so surprised that he looked over his shoulder, to see her standing on the other side the room near the large door, talking to a mage there. She continued, "I worry about his influence on Alistair."

Smiling in disbelief, he turned back to the tapestry in front of him. Now that he thought about it, the room was laid out similarly to a certain chapel in the Chantry in Antiva City. You did not want to discuss secrets in that chapel, since a whisper on one side of the room could travel to the other side and still be clearly heard. He strained his ears to catch what the other mage was saying, but she stood too far to one side to funnel the sound properly along the dome. Wynne continued, "If you knew what I do about him . . . I think Knight-Commander Greagoir might change his mind about letting him go."

As much as Wynne disliked Blair, it hadn't occurred to Zevran that she might betray him as a maleficar to the Templars. Zevran turned on his heel and walked quickly back to Blair and Alistair. The man at the desk was handing over some bundles, checking items off a list. "And here is your change," he said, handing Blair a few silvers.

"Alistair, please go get Wynne," Zevran said.

Alistair gave him a surprised look, and said, "She's talking to a friend, why don't we give her some time?"

Zevran gave Blair an urgent look, and he frowned in confusion but said, "I suppose we should get going, we can make a good five miles today if we leave now."

"Right. We're in a hurry–dragon, Urn, Arl," Alistair said, and headed towards Wynne.

Blair and Zevran started towards the door and Blair asked, "What was that about?"

Zevran replied in a low voice, "Wynne seems to enjoy gossip, she was just hinting to her friend that Knight-Commander Greagoir might handle things differently if he knew what she does regarding you."

Blair didn't respond, but picked up the pace. They reached the front gate and waited there for Wynne and Alistair. Wynne seemed unwilling to leave, but Alistair convinced her and they walked over to join Blair and Zevran. Blair studiously avoided meeting her eyes, but his lips were tightened in anger.

The Templars by the gates wrestled them open while the four waited. Blair was watching the Templars in the room behind them with a mixture of nervousness and anger. Three young Templars towards the back of the room were staring at him, and when the doors were opened Blair gave them a nasty smile and flipped them off before stepping into the gatehouse. One Templar dropped his hand to his sword hilt, but his fellow stopped him as he started forward. Zevran shook his head at Blair's rashness but held his tongue. Maybe later Blair would be in the mood to listen, but right now a confrontation would do no good.

Zevran felt a surge of relief when they stepped out of the gatehouse into the sunlight outside. As they walked down to the docks he asked Blair, "Am I right to conclude that you named your dog after the Knight-Commander?"

Blair laughed shortly. "Yes. They have a lot in common–they both enjoy killing mages. But I'm afraid I did Greagoir a disservice. Upon becoming better acquainted with him, I found him to be brave and honorable. But he forgives me for my misjudgment of him." He scratched the mabari behind the ears and he barked gruffly.

Blair didn't say anything to Wynne about what Zevran had overheard, but even after they'd crossed the lake he seemed on edge until the sight of the Tower was lost in the cover of the trees.

Wynne, Morrigan, and Blair spent their evenings formulating potions as they traveled back to Haven, and the others paid special attention to readying their weapons. The return trip seemed shorter than the trip to the Tower, although when counting the days Zevran realized it took the same time and put it down to nerves over the coming fight. They walked into the now-deserted village of Haven as dusk approached, and set up camp in the abandoned general store. "Tomorrow we fight the dragon," Blair told them after supper. Everyone knew it was coming, but hearing the words spoken somehow made it seem unreal.

That night Zevran lay awake in his pallet, looking at the stars outside the window. It was quite likely that this was his last night alive. He toyed with the idea of sneaking out, leaving the group, but the notion was only half-hearted. He'd made his decision. He was strangely not as nervous as he would have expected, and fell asleep before midnight.

The next morning they got their equipment together, keeping warmth balms readily available and checking weapons and equipment. Sten coated himself with warmth balm, spreading it over his armor so he would not cook inside it under the dragon's fire, and the others helped him cover hard to reach areas. Zevran got the same treatment, but Morrigan and Blair passed. "Without armor to help protect us, there's not much point to it. If it turns on either one of us, we're dead," Blair said.

Finally they had double- and triple-checked their equipment. "All right. Those of you not coming, wait nearby, but not in the village itself. If we should fail I don't want the dragon to get irritated and burn down the village with you in it. I think it will be pretty clear what the outcome is."

"Good luck," said Alistair, looking very stern.

"Thanks." Blair shook his hand, scratched Greagoir's ears, nodded politely to Wynne, and accepted a hug from Leliana. The four started up to the mountain top.

As they left the temple Zevran scanned the peaks for the dragon. Zevran found himself thinking perhaps it was not around and they would be able to enter the temple that appeared to be the resting place of the Urn without being spotted. But they were not that lucky. With a roar, the dragon came plummeting out of the sky, from such a height and at such a tremendous speed that it seemed impossible it would manage to land without killing itself on impact. Yet seemingly at the last minute it spread its wings and caught the air, slowing enough to land comparatively softly. The ground still shook at the impact, and the gust from its wings knocked the four adventurers to the ground.

They scrambled to their feet and ran to the positions they had previously discussed–Sten directly towards the beast, Zevran swerving around its flank, and Morrigan and Blair standing on opposite sides. Sten swung his battleaxe and struck the dragon on the foreleg, scoring its scales but drawing no blood. The dragon gave a huffing squeal, perhaps affronted, and breathed a blast of flame at the Qunari warrior. Thanks to the balm prescribed by Leliana the worst of the heat did not reach him, although he fell back in pain and alarm, coughing from the stench of brimstone. Zevran heard Morrigan chanting her version of the healing spell, while simultaneously a glowing blue glyph of warding sprung up around Sten.

Zevran had not been idle, dodging the dragon's tail and hind feet, and trying to reach a good position to slash at its underbelly. He reasoned the dragon was basically an oversized drake, so should have similar weaknesses. Examining the dragon, he saw that the skin in the folds of its body was more pliable and the scales were smaller, perhaps meaning a weak spot in the animal's defenses. "Sten, go for the throat and chest behind the forelimbs!" he yelled. The Qunari nodded and charged once again.

The battle seemed to last forever. More than once Zevran was thrown through the air by a lash from the dragon's tail to land with stunning impact. In each case the mages healed his bruises and he ran back into battle. There were two moments when things almost went very wrong. In the first, the dragon managed to grab Sten in its jaws and lift him high off the ground. If Morrigan had not been ready with a cone of cold to stun the dragon into dropping him, the battle would have ended with a couple of bites and a tail swipe. The second time the dragon turned on Blair, causing Sten to lash out with a mighty blow that cut the dragon's shoulder to the bone, and Zevran to actually climb the dragon's hind leg, stabbing his knives wherever he could find a chink in the dragon's scales. It roared and sprang into the air, and Zevran fell to regain consciousness a moment later lying on his back on the rocky ground. Blair stood beside him, apparently having just healed him, and now striking the dragon with a lightning bolt. As Zevran got to his feet Blair spared a moment to smile at him and touch his shoulder, then Zevran charged back into the fray.

Massive as the dragon was, the party was taking their toll. The rocks were slippery with the dragon's thick, foul-smelling blood, and its scaly hide was covered with gashes. Sten had hacked at its left wing, damaging the wrist joint and grounding the dragon. It was beginning to fight with frenzied desperation, and growing clumsy from its injuries.

Finally Blair cast a cone of cold that left the dragon momentarily stunned and blinded. Zevran dropped his sword and climbed the dragon's back, pulling his other dagger. He ran a few steps forward along its back, feet sliding in the frost limning its scales, and stabbed both daggers into the folds of skin behind its jaw. The dragon screamed and flailed, but Zevran grabbed a horn and swung himself atop its head. As its head came back level he yanked the blades out, raised both, and stabbed straight down. The razor-sharp daggers punched through the dragon's skull into its brain and Zevran jerked the blades forward and back. It immediately went limp, and he leaped off as it collapsed to the ground. As he regained his footing Sten ran up to the fallen dragon and in five strokes hacked off its head.

Both mages came running. The bloodshed appeared to agree with Morrigan. She was grinning with excitement and her cheeks were flushed, while Blair appeared speechless with disbelief. He looked at the dragon's head, then turned to Zevran. He took two quick steps toward Zevran and grabbed his baldric, pulling him close and kissing him on the mouth.

Zevran was momentarily too surprised to do anything. Just as he was about to return the kiss Blair released him and stepped back, looking apprehensive. Impulsively, Zevran caught Blair's wrist and pulled him back. He couldn't let Blair go thinking the kiss was unwanted–indeed, it had been all too brief. Blair resisted, then stepped forward, a strange mix of hope and fear on his face. Zevran slid his hand behind Blair's neck and pulled him closer. Their lips met, and Blair's lips parted under his. Wrapping his other arm around Blair's waist, he pulled his body against him as he ran his tongue into Blair's mouth. Blair put his hands on Zevran's hips and pressed into him, and Zevran found himself cursing his leather armor that kept him from feeling the lines of the other man's body on his.

Zevran was just beginning to get lost in the kiss when Blair pulled away, pushing Zevran away when he initially would not let go. Zevran looked up to see Sten watching them in apparent confusion. Morrigan had climbed up onto the dead dragon's back and was sitting astride it laughing. "I've heard dragon blood is an aphrodisiac, but I never thought just the smell of it was enough. Fortunately, Sten and I are unaffected."

Blair ignored her and said, "We should go tell the others we actually won." Zevran knew the kiss had affected him, but he seemed embarrassed by it, and would not meet Zevran's eyes.

A little angered, Zevran retrieved his weapons. He found it was harder to remove the daggers from the dragon's skull than it had been to drive them in. He cleaned the blades and sheathed them without speaking, and the group headed back down the mountain.

* * *

Followed by **The Broad Road, Third Interlude: Dragon-Sparked Fire**


	6. Celebration

Preceded by **The Broad Road, Third Interlude: Dragon-Sparked Fire**

**

* * *

Chapter 6: Celebration**

They were just heading into the abandoned village when they heard a whoop, and turned to see the others running out of the trees towards them. Greagoir reached them first and forgot himself so far as to jump up and put his paws on Blair's shoulders, knocking him down. Blair looked annoyed for a minute and then laughed, trying to catch the mabari scampering around him to scratch his ears. Greagoir finally stood still and Blair rubbed his head, still sitting on the trail.

Leliana and Alistair reached them and Leliana flung her arms around Zevran. "You did it!" she crowed. He put his arms around her, feeling her breasts pressed against his armor, but she slipped away before he could slide his hand just a little further down her back. Leliana wrinkled her nose at the reek of brimstone that still hung around them. "Whew! You smell awful!" She turned to Blair, who had just stood and was dusting his robes off, and hugged him too. He looked surprised but hugged her back.

Alistair asked, "No one's hurt?"

"Nothing we couldn't heal," Blair said.

"Thank the Maker!" Leliana said. "We should have a party tonight!"

Morrigan snorted. "Tonight? But we've no time to engage the musicians."

"Hey, I think it's a great idea," Alistair said, giving Morrigan a belligerent look.

Wynn caught up with them and said, "I gather the creature is dead?"

"Yes, Zevran killed it," Blair said, giving him a quick glance. Zevran noticed that Alistair shot him an almost jealous look.

"Good that removes our final obstacle to the Urn. We should return to the temple at once."

"Not today," Blair said flatly, heading down towards Haven. Wynn sighed disapprovingly, but followed after with the rest of the party when they made no objection.

Sten was the only one in the group who opted out of the party that night, saying he saw no reason for revelry. He patrolled the village, though the surviving cultists seemed gone for good, while the others made preparations. Leliana shot a pig that made the mistake of foraging in a garden within bowshot, then Alistair and Zevran butchered it. The others gathered wood to build a bonfire in the middle of Haven and collected all of the alcohol remaining in the village.

Both Blair and Morrigan vanished for a good part of the afternoon. Zevran had noticed Blair acting extremely distracted not long after the battle with the dragon, again watching things that weren't there, and watched him quietly slip away into the abandoned store. Not long afterward Morrigan approached him on her way out of the village. "If anyone should look for me, tell them I am collecting herbs." Morrigan had drunk a couple potions herself in that battle, and her amber irises were narrow rings. Zevran realized he'd never seen her use lyrium before this battle. She headed up the mountain, not waiting for his reply, and when he glanced up the trail a moment later he saw a giant spider scuttling into the underbrush.

He and Alistair were busy building up the bonfire while Leliana and Wynn searched the houses for useful supplies, so it took quite a while before anyone noticed the two mages were missing. Finally Alistair looked around with a frown and said, "Where have Blair and Morrigan gotten to?"

"Perhaps out collecting herbs," Zevran said. "Morrigan intended to go some time ago." The younger Warden frowned and returned to building up the fire, though he kept glancing around periodically to see if the mages had returned.

Blair rejoined the others as Alistair lit the bonfire, and not long afterward Morrigan returned, carrying a bundle of herbs. As night fell they ate dinner and then the party began. Leliana sang for the party and demonstrated some Orlesian dances, and attempted to teach one to Alistair. She had had a couple glasses of wine by that point, and he was not a particularly good dancer, so the attempt ended with her tripping over his foot and almost falling on her face. Zevran took his turn next, and taught her an Antivan dance. He caught himself glancing at Blair, who was sipping a cup of red wine while scratching Greagoir's belly, but Blair appeared not to notice. Zevran felt disappointed and then wondered why this was, and almost misstepped. Did he want Blair to be jealous? He'd found jealousy to be an irritant in the past, an attempt by others to bind him. Especially since Taliesen–but he did not want to think of that. He found himself in no mood for dancing, and excused himself to get a drink.

As he poured himself another cup of wine he watched Morrigan. She was off in the shadows away from the rest of the group, leaping and whirling, dancing a wild dance that he had never seen before. For once her face was serene. She always looked worried, but who among them did not have reason? Feeling as if he was trespassing, he turned away.

Wynne stood, bade everyone good night, and headed off to the abandoned store. Leliana and Alistair had sat down by the fire opposite Blair, and Alistair was telling Leliana some story about his life in the chantry that she appeared to find quite funny–Zevran thought he heard the phrase "epic pillow fight". While they were distracted Zevran went to sit next to Blair, who was staring into the fire as if mesmerized. Zevran wasn't sure if he was feeling the effects of the wine he'd drunk, or still affected by the lyrium he'd used in the fight against the dragon.

"Seeing things?" Zevran asked. Greagoir wriggled over to Zevran for an ear-scratching. The mabari had apparently decided Zevran was tolerable company.

Blair glanced at him and smiled. "Nothing more than the flames. They're beautiful. I never realized they were so many different colors." He resumed staring at the dancing flames.

"So is tonight the night?" Zevran asked.

"What?" asked Blair, turning from the fire to look at him.

"Is this the night where we make passionate love?"

Blair blinked and almost started to smile. "For slaying a dragon, you get a kiss. If you want a tumble, you'll have to slay the archdemon itself."

Zevran let a little frustration creep into his voice and said, looking into the fire, "Are my advances distasteful to you? If you but say the word, I will stop."

Blair said nothing for a long moment, and Zevran looked back at him. Finally he said in a low voice, "No, they are not unwelcome. I think you know that."

"Then why do you hold me at arms' length? It is not such a difficult question, do you want to have sex with me or not?"

"It's not that straightforward," Blair answered defensively.

"Then explain it to me. Certainly you cannot be fearing I will betray you, not after all this. Besides, you never go unarmed. I can put my weapons aside, but you carry yours with you always."

"I'm sure you know any number of ways of killing a person while unarmed."

"True," Zevran allowed. "I could let you tie me up," he said in a lighter tone.

Blair laughed. "Moot, since I trust you not to kill me, but I don't think that would work out well for either of us, given my inexperience."

Zevran raised an eyebrow. "Inexperience? Are you a virgin?"

Blair shrugged his shoulder. "How do you define that? I did do things with some boys at the Circle, but it never went very far. The Templars were always around watching us apprentices. They are under a vow of chastity, and it makes some of them resentful, even more if you're not reenacting the meeting of the Maker and Andraste.

"You know mages don't marry, there's not really a rule against it but it's just not done. The Templars have even less sympathy for two men or two women. If you're Harrowed they don't interfere, but they watch the apprentices like hawks."

"Mmm. Sounds worse than the Crows. Would this be a second reason for turning me down?"

Blair said slowly, "Not particularly. I used to think you might consider me a tally for your scoreboard, but now . . . I consider you a friend."

Blair turned to look at him, his pupils still dilated from the lyrium, and for a moment Zevran almost kissed him again. In the ordinary course of things he would have. He knew Blair's refusal was tenuous, and would probably break with just one kiss. But instead he looked back at the fire and said, "I stopped keeping score a long time ago. And if that was my motivation I wouldn't keep after you after being refused so often."

A log in the fire popped and Zevran looked at the sparks shooting upwards. He noticed that Alistair and Leliana had left at some point–having better luck than he was, perhaps?–and they were now alone.

"So what is your motivation?" Blair asked quietly.

That was the kind of question marks usually asked Zevran when they were about to give in–"Tell me how wonderful I am." At this point Zevran moved in for the kill before, well, moving in for the kill. Yet he found he was able to speak with perfect sincerity, a first, while looking steadily into Blair's eyes. "Fascination. You are handsome and dangerous. You kill more efficiently than many assassins. Also you keep the rest of us from getting killed, which I greatly appreciate. You united a group of disparate adventurers into a band capable of taking down a dragon. Most of all, you spared my life when you had no reason to and instead of acting like I am your enemy or your servant, you treat me as a friend. Why would I not desire you?"

Blair appeared completely disarmed. By all rights he should have fallen into Zevran's arms. Instead he stood suddenly and crossed his arms. Zevran got to his feet as well, more slowly.

"My last reason is to me the basest but most compelling one," Blair said, not looking at him. "It's just that the others would not like it. Already Wynne wants to leave because I am a blood mage, Alistair because of that and because I let Isolde die, and Sten and Morrigan because we are not taking the most direct route to the Archdemon or Loghain. None of them trust you, and would think me a fool if I slept with you."

Zevran said nothing for a long moment, not trusting himself to speak. "If that is what is stopping you, I agree that obstacle seems insurmountable. I wish you good luck keeping the others happy. I will be with you regardless, as I promised." He turned and went into the store, finding his pallet in the dark. The women had taken the back room, and Zevran was alone in the darkened store.

Zevran sat down and took off his boots. As he unlaced them, he wondered what was wrong with him. So Blair kept refusing him, why should that matter? Ordinarily he would have shrugged it off and moved on. It was not even as if he did not agree with Blair–it probably would be a bad idea for Blair to have sex with him. He supposed it was the duration of his celibacy getting to him. Before last year he'd never gone more than two weeks without sex, even one week was unusual, and now he was nearing on six months.

Zevran undressed and laid down in his bedroll, but found himself too tense to sleep. Well, there was a way to solve that. He slid his hand down and started stroking himself. For a moment he imagined Blair, here in the darkness with him, but annoyed at Blair put him out of his head and thought about Leliana instead, imagining sliding his hands over her breasts and down her body. But a few minutes later when he shuddered and came, he was remembering Blair's kiss.


End file.
